


September 2002-January 2003: Fake Dating Service Agreement Between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy

by countingcr0ws



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Colleagues - Freeform, Community: dracotops_harry, Contracts, Department of Mysteries, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Has Long Hair, M/M, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Oblivious Harry Potter, Office, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pining Harry Potter, Potions, Suspicions, Unspeakables (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingcr0ws/pseuds/countingcr0ws
Summary: Draco Malfoy has exciting plans for his life. He will:- save the Auror Department from themselves- complete his Beautification potion- apply to join the Department of Mysteries- be accepted to the Department of Mysteries- manipulate Harry to become his lover.Things don't happen in that order, but it's all still very exciting.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 46
Kudos: 377
Collections: Draco tops Harry 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #33.
> 
> Betaed by Kayden [(Thunder_of_Dragons)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_of_Dragons).

Draco hummed in gratitude when a cup of tea was placed on his desk. Finishing his note, he leaned around the partition to thank Harry. 

The deep resignation on Harry's face dissolved momentarily when he looked up to wave the gratitude away. Countless of interdepartmental memos and updates had come in overnight, and he was busy reading them.

"Just sort it," Draco said as he nodded at Harry's wand on the table.

"No, I need to follow up on this," Harry said as he raised a note.

Draco rolled his eyes and he flicked his own wand—it was an argument that they had had multiple times. Harry would always be swept away by a note and miss the rest, including any relevant updates to the initial note. With the majority of the Aurors' cases being pressed for time, the indiscriminate amount of memos that piled up was an efficiency gap that magnified itself in the Auror department.

"Thanks," Harry said, reluctantly reaching for the urgent pile. His brows climbed as he read a note. "It's already addressed. Robards didn't know that I was out yesterday." He set down the original in his hand sheepishly.

Draco gave him a pointed look of 'I told you so' as he returned to his report. He _needed_ to finish it as soon as possible before the entire Auror department crumbled to dust.

During the disastrous audit when Scrimgeour had still been Head, Fawley had allegedly been run off with 17.3-centimetres long earlobes in his second day with the Aurors. Subsequently, Workplace Efficiency and Extraordinary Productivity (WEEP) had steered clear of the Department until Junior Officer, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione Jean Granger had requested an audit during a meeting with the Minister for Magic.

Within an hour, the most junior staff of WEEP had been assigned to the Aurors—Draco had been pulled out from his work in Magical Intellectual Property and thrown into Robards’ office, where the man had warned Draco about obstructing and delaying justice.

Even though it was clear that Robards was skeptical of WEEP's efficacy, Draco was grateful that the man had assigned Harry as his counterpart. The clout Harry yielded had been helpful in getting people to talk to him. Beginning with the poor layout of the office, Draco's report had continued with the induction of new Aurors on the administrative aspects, the unwieldy forms, and the filing process of reports. Despite having sat in the Aurors for more than a week, Draco was still finding areas of improvement—or WEEPables, as Fawley liked to call it—daily.

"Morning," Ron said brightly as he sailed into the office, gasping when he laid eyes on Draco. "Mate, you look like shit. Wild night?"

Draco hurriedly conjured a mirror to inspect himself. He traced his under eyes worriedly. He didn't look so bad, did he? His WEEP report was due in three days, but there was simply too much to be covered. Between shadowing and interviewing the Aurors, the writing of his report and reading of the records and manuals had to be taken home.

"It's your hair. You didn't manage to tame your cowlick," Harry said quietly as he reached over to attempt it himself.

Shivers ran down his back when he felt Harry's blunt fingernails against his scalp. His heart squeezed as his stomach clenched. "I had to run out of the house today," he mumbled nervously, frozen in his seat. "Do I really look awful?" he asked Ron.

"No," Harry said as he reached for his wand, while Ron replied, "Yes, like death warmed over."

"What?" Ron demanded when both Draco and Harry looked at him sharply. "He looks awful! He's projecting the leave-me-alone aura!"

"Well, it's just the aura." Harry turned back to him consolingly. "You look fine," he assured as he waved his wand at Draco's head. Draco shivered at the tingle of Harry's magic that shot down his spine.

"Is it fixed?" Draco asked anxiously as he tried to see the back of his head in the mirror.

"Not a single strand out of place, Malfoy," Ron said as he sorted his notes according to urgency.

"Thanks. You could do your hair, too. Keep it down or something," Draco said, eyeing Harry's fringe that had escaped his messy low bun. He returned the mirror back to a roll of parchment.

"Does it look bad?" Harry asked.

Draco glanced quickly at Harry, careful to not rest his eyes too long on any part of him. Even though Harry's crown was bumpy and his hair was slightly frizzy, his hair was shiny, wavy, and healthy. Draco focused on the tip of Harry's ear instead before meeting Harry's eyes for a beat. "It's Potter-esque," he said before being distracted by the new note that flew into Harry's cubicle. 

"Proper developments to the organs harvesting case. Want to join?" Ron asked Draco as he read the note over Harry's shoulder. He has trailed along on a case once to follow through the entire process.

"No. Robards will be showing me how he dispatches cases." Draco watched Harry straighten his Auror robes as he got onto his feet. He reached over to pick a dark strand of hair off Harry's front.

"Thanks." Harry gave him a small smile. "Gotta go—" he leaned in with an outstretched hand before suddenly pulling away with an awkward smile— "bye. Drink your tea." He pointed at the cup in reminder.

Draco's eyes were pinned on Harry's back as he left the office. It was hard to send his friends off to danger. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Draco traced the logo of the shop printed on the takeaway cup forlornly. He sighed to himself. His other audits had never been as worrying.

* * *

  
**An entry in Draco Malfoy's black notebook titled _‘The Progression and Coalescence of Thoughts (A Study of Motivations and Decisions)’_**

Original curiosity: why does Kreacher not make him coffee? 

Expected outcome: Harry explains why + why he likes coffee

Unintended outcome: tea from Harry every morning when I work with the Aurors

Reflection:

As per previous observations, interactions with Harry Potter never lead to my expected outcomes. Conversations are also very fast, and my brain filter is unable to catch up. As usual, I am more suggestible around Harry Potter. This time, we did not argue, nor were any illogical concessions made.

Will need to tell Worry to not make me tea during breakfast. Too much tea makes me jittery.

Will wait for Harry’s.

* * *

"To Draco!" Blaise cheered, raising his glass in a toast.

"To Draco," the tables returned as they clinked their drinks heartily. Sitting down after reaching across the table to meet Neville's steady glass, Draco kicked Blaise's foot sharply.

"Ow, you got the wrong foot, you bloody arsehole!" Ginny sat up from her slump against Blaise.

Draco tried to peer under the table despite the tight squeeze. "Don't play footsie then! Have some bit of decency, Merlin."

"Blaise, tell Malfoy that it hurts," Ginny complained when Blaise reached to pet her leg.

Draco sighed when Harry elbowed him in the rib. "I am sorry for causing you bodily harm. I was aiming for Blaise," he said sullenly, deepening his sulk for good measure when Harry smiled at him in approval. 

"Oh, you'll be alright. You get hit by Bludgers on the daily," Hermione said when Ginny continued to whine at Blaise. 

"Draco's right. You guys could stand to be apart for a while," Ron said as he took a sip of his Firewhiskey.

"That's rich coming from you. You guys are practically plastered together," Ginny waved at the both of them.

"I didn't mean to start it," Draco said guiltily. Ron and Ginny would always argue at least once during their drinks, and he had unintentionally been the catalyst tonight.

"We should start penalising people. We'd be rich," Harry grinned as he played with the ring of water on the table.

"We should bet on who sets them off and when it'll happen."

Harry considered the suggestion. "That's a bit too complex and _inefficient_ ; we should—"

"Oh, now you're the expert in efficiency," Draco teased. He had finally turned in his two-and-a-half page report (exceeding the limit of two pages, Fawley had hemmed and hawed during its approval) after a fortnight of auditing. He had been thoroughly congratulated by his friends, and was already feeling vaguely tipsy.

"Well, probably not an expert. But you always talk about inefficiencies, and after seeing you at work, I think that _I_ could be a junior expert," Harry said with a pleased smile.

"That makes you a _junior_ junior WEEP then." Draco leaned towards Harry in amusement. "Can't have you be a junior with me."

"That makes me a small WEEP. Or a tiny WEEP." Harry's right dimple was showing, his eyes shining as he beamed at Draco.

"A teeny WEEP."

"Teeny tiny," Harry giggled as he raised his hand to show how small he would be.

"No," Draco disagreed as he widened the space between Harry's thumb and index finger. "You're Harry Potter. You can't be a teeny tiny WEEP."

"No, I can be anything I want," Harry argued as he tried to resist Draco's forceful hands, trying to close his fingers.

"No, you can't. You're an expert. Experts can't be so—" He stopped when Harry managed to close his hand into a fist. "Oh, you're nothing. You don't exist anymore," he said gravely.

Harry burst into laughter as he shook his fist. "That's the end of Harry Potter."

Draco frowned at Harry, who was swaying in his seat while laughing. He swapped his drink with Harry disapprovingly. "Potter, you're getting morose again," he said as he nudged his water towards Harry.

"Oh, thanks."

Draco shook his head as he watched Harry empty the glass at one go.

"Draco, who are you going to the Ball with?" Hermione asked suddenly, breaking his reverie.

Draco shrugged as he looked at Blaise. "Nobody, I think. Pansy will be working, Theo isn't going, and you guys all have plus ones." He looked at the small turnout around the table.

"Well, Harry doesn't," Ginny said.

"You're not going with Luna?"

Harry shrugged as he shifted in his seat. "She's in Indonesia looking for creatures."

"Harry could do with a partner so the Prophet doesn't lose their minds. They'll crank up the gossip, and then the letters will come," Hermione looked heavily at Draco as if the Prophet's shoddy reporting was his fault.

"Those bloody letters," Ron said vehemently. The Gryffindors at the table nodded their heads in commiseration.

"What letters?" Draco asked, placing a hand on Harry's thigh to stop him from squirming.

"Erm, I need to wee," Harry burst out as he hopped off his stool and rushed off.

"Admiration letters, love potions, wedding proposals and the like. Mine sort of stopped when Hannah and I got together," Nevile shrugged.

“ _Love potions and wedding proposals,_ ” Draco repeated incredulously. He was repulsed. It was worse than the hate mails he got sparingly whenever the public was reminded of his existence.

“Stained underwear, too, if you’re really unlucky,” Neville elaborated.

Ron shrugged when he looked at him questioningly, “I only get sane letters, nothing of the proposals or underwear sort. I guess that I have Hermione, you know. They know better than to trifle with her. And I’m an Auror.”

“Well, Harry’s an Auror, too,” Draco said hotly.

“Yeah, Harry’s an Auror.” Harry was smiling as he climbed back into his chair, his hair in a fresh bun.

Draco refilled the glass with water and pushed it towards Harry.

“Yeah, but Harry’s too polite to tell all of them to shove off,” Ginny said. She waved for Neville to finish his drink. 

“Yeah, Harry’s—” Draco cut Harry off with a glare.

“Well, I think that the solution’s clear, isn’t it? Draco, you should take Potter to the Ball. Save him from the world and himself.” Blaise placed his chin in his palm as he leaned in lazily.

Harry set the water down with a sigh. “We’re still on this topic?”

“We’re trying to save you, mate. Hermione's right that you need a date to the Ball. A proper date would be better, but we can't be picky—"

"If you're talking about me, please be reminded that _I_ am in fact _a_ _catch_ ," Draco interrupted. "There is no _settling_ when—"

Ron held a hand up in his direction. "Everybody knows that you and Luna are just friends. Maybe that's why the letters keep coming."

"I know!" Everybody jumped when Ginny slapped the table. "You both should fake-date. Do a whole PR stunt. You—" she pointed at Draco— "will fend off the crazies, while you will learn how to assert yourself."

Draco's brows met his hairline as he looked at Ginny in disbelief. He was stunned to see similar thoughtful looks around the table. "Blaise, you're the only other Slytherin here. Tell them that it's stupid, please."

Blaise stroked the stubble along his chin pensively. "It's not half bad. You've served so many legal letters to your harassers. Potter could learn a thing or two from you."

Draco scoffed. "I've forgotten that dating a Gryffindor has addled your brains." He looked around the table helplessly for support, only to find none. "Harry, your friends have lost their minds."

"They're your friends, too," Harry said, staring intently at his drink as he trailed his finger around its rim.

"You'll be covered positively in the papers," Hermione said in an attempt to convince him.

"If it's even covered positively."

"You can make Harry pay for everything!" Ginny suggested. Draco looked at her blandly. He was a _Malfoy_ , for Merlin's sake. He had intergenerational wealth spanning half a millennium.

"You could make him run errands for you," Ron said.

"He already does that for me." He gestured for Blaise and Neville to give their best shot.

"Because you'd want to," Blaise said coolly with a smile at the same time as Neville said, "Because you'll be helping a friend."

Draco felt his dismissive amusement waiver. He knew that Harry's media shyness had allowed the media to twist his image and portray him according to their narratives. Consequently, the public had come to see him less for his achievements and more as a figure they could attach their fantasies and delusions onto—Harry Potter looked sad and troubled, maybe he needed a warm motherly hug, or the shoulder of a lover—and the circus would start. People would mob him and, apparently, also send him soiled panties. Harry was slumped over the empty glass, adamantly evading his eyes as the table looked at him in anticipation.

"Fine," Draco said. His friends cheered. Ron slapped him on the back while Harry blinked at him in disbelief. "I'll do it, but you'll have to sign up for Bainbridge & Daughters. Secondly, I will also have access to your nasty letters and serve them cease and desist orders. Thirdly, any other excursions will be according to my schedule. I will also be remunerated for my headache."

"Get a contract done up in the meantime, wouldn't you?" Blaise laughed derisively.

"Of course. I'll get Baringstone on it immediately after this."

"Draco, you can't give _these_ people contracts," Blaise said in horror. "They do _feelings_ , not _papers_."

"Feelings!" Draco scoffed while Ron said in affrontment, " _These_ people?".

"I'll do it," Harry interjected.

"No!" The Weasley siblings yelled. Ron looked to Hermione for assistance.

"I work in Magical Law Enforcement. Contracts are effective. I quite like it, actually," she said with a shrug.

"Harry, this is ridiculous. It's supposed to be a favour, not a binding document!"

"A contract is merely a document that spells out the obligations of the parties, _Ginevra_. It doesn't always have to be magically binding. Though, now that you've put the thought in my head..." he trailed off.

Harry placed a hand on his thigh in warning. "I've said that it's fine. Draco's doing me a favour, and I trust him."

"Even with Bainbridge & Daughters?" he asked.

"Yes, even with Bainbridge & Daughters."

Draco's brows raised in amusement. He had been recommending the public relations company he had on retainer for the longest time but to no avail. Apparently, all it took was to force his hand. "My remuneration is above the retainer fee," he clarified. Both Ginny and Ron sputtered in the background.

"Of course. We'll review the contract tomorrow?"

Draco considered his schedule. His latest batch of fairy wings had come in the day before, and he would finally have time to attempt brewing again. "After Andromeda's," he suggested. Baringstone would have returned with a draft by then.

"Okay. I want a copy before we meet." Harry extended a hand for him to shake.

Draco rolled his eyes as he took it in his. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Same," Harry replied. His eyes were bright as they grinned at each other.

* * *

  
Harry

Please find enclosed a draft of the contract from my lawyer. A draft has been similarly shared with Bainbridge & Daughters.

Let's go to Grimmauld after Andromeda's.

Agenda for tonight:

  1. Review agreement, with emphasis on:


  * Remuneration of Contractor
  * Annex A: The Contractor’s Obligations and Schedule of Delivery
  * Annex B: The Customer's Obligations and Schedule of Delivery
  * Clause 5: Acceptance of Deliverables
  * Clause 10: Termination for Default
  * Clause 11: Termination for Convenience


  1. Public obligations of our agreement (to be included in Annex A & B upon finalisation, supported by Bainbridge & Daughters)
  2. Intended outcomes from Bainbridge & Daughters (please identify beforehand do you want to protect, enhance and build)
  3. Inspect your closet. Please tell me that you're not wearing the same midnight blue robes to the Ball again.



Many things to do tonight; please prepare accordingly. Have also taken the liberty to inform Bainbridge & Daughters that we'll be going down tomorrow. They will be preparing their assessment and recommendation for your public image.

Do return if 12 noon is good for you.

Draco

* * *

###  **Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy spotted having breakfast together in Muggle London!**

by Pansy Parkinson

Your favourite fashion correspondent was doing a bit of shopping at Oxford Street when she spotted our favourite Auror, 23, having breakfast with the Wizarding World's most infamous blond.

In a white oversized Muggle round neck tee, Draco Malfoy was unfortunately not meeting his usual fashion standards. Judging how worn the shirt looked, could it have been Harry Potter's?

Despite the casualness, Draco Malfoy, who is also friends with the rest of the Golden Trio, their gang of insipid Gryffindors and the occasional spunky Ravenclaw, looked unconcerned, smiling as he listened to Harry Potter. They each had a full English breakfast.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's media representative requested for their clients' privacy, commenting that the duo were merely having a bit of sustenance. It is a timely reminder that even Harry Potter could possibly be as dull as you.

Perhaps readers could consider minding their own business instead of reading about strangers' lives over their breakfast.

The Prophet previously covered that Draco Malfoy was auditing the Aurors as part of his mind-numbingly boring job in the Ministry's Workplace Efficiency and Extraordinary Productivity (WEEP) department. According to sources, the heir to the Malfoy's fortunes has submitted his report on workplace improvements to the Head Auror, Gawain Robards, two weeks into his attachment. WEEP reports directly to the Minister for Magic.


	2. Chapter 2

###  **Best Dressed at Floral Fantasy: 2002 Ministry of Magic Annual Ball - An Excerpt**

by Pansy Parkinson

**Image description:** Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are standing beside each other. Dressed in a light pink and gold metallic finish flower print Muggle cut suit, Draco Malfoy's combover is artfully tousled. Harry Potter is dressed in a dark green velvet Muggle cut double breasted suit with shifting gold embroidery of wood nymphs from his right lapel to over his collar. His hair is in a neat low bun, his famous scar uncovered with a single loose strand falling from the top of his head. Harry Potter looks hesitant, leaning closer to Draco Malfoy, who is standing straight as he smirks into the camera, hands in his pockets

**Best Dressed Male:** Draco Malfoy reminds us why he is our darling and the Saviour of Wizarding fashion. Returning with bold choices, his custom suit from Winthralls is reminiscent of the metallic purple suit he wore to the Selwyn's Fundraiser last year. Never a dull showing, he looks like walking sex, and he knows it.

**Hero's Redemption:** I have never been more grateful that Harry Potter saved us all so that we could all live to see this day—Our Wizarding Hero on the Best Dressed List! With obvious influences from his friend and date of the night, Harry Potter is similarly dressed in tailoring genius Winthralls, making a bold statement with dark green velvet and delicate embroidery. Call your bookmakers, can we expect more?

* * *

Draco sniffed distastefully when he noticed the stack of letters on the table. The populace had warmed to his favourable media coverage ever since Blaise had begun dating Ginny, but to be exploring a non-platonic relationship with their Saviour was too much for them. With his attachment to the Aurors, hateful correspondence had been directed away from the Ministry and to the Manor. When it became clear that their letters were unsent due to the wards, the more spiteful individuals had commandeered letterheads and owls from their workplaces. The grievances were ceaseless, and Draco could not stop himself from opening them.

In the nights of repeated failures after determining that his modified Beautification potion was a dud, he would return from his trials at Muggle clubs to help himself to them. He was a conniving bastard, a manwhore, a boot licker like his father, and filth that ruined readers' days. Above all, he would never be called to join the Brain division of the Department of Mysteries. He had nothing of remark to be had. His potions were a failure, his Thoughts journal was an exercise in futility.

Draco checked the mail and sorted them accordingly. Half of the scathing letters went to his bedside table for light reading, while the rest remained on his desk. Then there were the booby traps for careful unwrapping and intellectual stimulation. He marvelled at the remaining three letters that were supposedly polite.

"Draco, do you have a wine—" Harry said as he stepped out of the Floo without invitation. "Merlin, what's that smell?"

Draco jumped, hurriedly hiding the remaining letters when Harry approached the table with an expression of distaste. "What smell?" he asked.

Harry sifted through the stack of rigged mail with his wand. "You've been shopping? It smells like Bubotuber pus."

Despite the dire situation, Draco found himself reluctantly impressed by Harry's retention of knowledge from Herbology. Henrietta Whorst had the penchant for stealing from her place of employment to convey her disgust towards his grooming and choice of clothes. Draco had distilled her _gifts_ and donated the products to his colleague, whose daughter had acne.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't be prodding it with your wand," Draco advised as he walked towards his dressing room for a change of clothes.

"Do you have acne somewhere where I don't know?"

"Yes, a huge one in my study."

" _What_? Oh, you think that you're so funny." Harry said, his voice getting nearer as he followed him.

"State your business, Potter."

"Hermione asked if you had a red to go along with the lasagna from Molly," Harry said, leaning against the door of the dressing room. 

Draco rolled his eyes as he waved his work robes to the clothes hamper in the corner. "Of course, I do. Does she want it, though?" He turned to tease Harry, heart jumping at the intensity of Harry's eyes that were trained on him. He quickly faced his cupboards once more. "Like what you see?" he asked with false casualness as he continued to take off his clothes, heedless of Harry's presence.

"Of course I do," Harry said, his voice rough and tinged with amusement. "It's nice to know that you don't have acne under your clothes."

"Maybe it's on my arse," Draco retorted as he put his hand into a sleeve.

“Well, you can’t say such things without offering me a chance to check. If you're not going to show me your arse, at least turn around, will you?”

Draco complied, staring straight at him in nothing but his briefs and an unbuttoned shirt. It was a bizarre conversation and experience, but he had come to expect nothing less from Harry.

Starting to button from the bottom, he watched the guilt flash across Harry’s face as he took in the scars on his chest. Harry's eyes stayed for a few moments as he bit his lips before trailing down Draco’s body and then returning to his abdomen where his hands were at.

Harry lifted himself off the doorframe to stand before him. “Let me,” he said, his voice rough as he placed his hands over Draco’s. Draco barely registered the callouses on Harry’s hands—his heart starting to rabbit at a frenzied pace, his legs weak from the developments. He dropped his hands.

The room was heavy with tension. There was scarcely a ring of green in Harry’s eyes as he worked on the buttons slowly. Draco could smell the sandalwood in Harry’s cologne as his arms twitched limply at his sides. He wanted to put them around Harry, but the suddenness and the strength of the urge was confusing.

Draco moaned softly in surprise and surrender, his breath shaky when Harry suddenly leaned in to press a kiss at the curve of his neck and shoulder. He clutched weakly onto the checked wool coat he had bought for Harry last winter.

Draco made a strangled noise when Harry trailed a line of hot kisses upwards, nuzzling into his neck before biting it and immediately soothing the hurt with his tongue. Harry’s hand slipped under his shirt, pushing it upwards as he ran his hands across Draco’s back.

Draco's body was alight with sensations. He had never been touched this way—the sex he had had was always fast, dirty, or shameful. He had never been reduced to a trembling, desperate mess.

Suddenly registering Harry’s hardness against him, Draco felt distinctly light-headed. He wanted to push Harry to his knees, he wanted Harry to kiss him, he wanted to touch Harry's cock. “Please,” he begged, his voice broken as he rutted against Harry.

“Please what?” Harry asked as he shoved his hand in his briefs. He pushed it under Draco’s balls roughly as he whispered a lubrication charm.

“Please,” Draco begged as he thrust his swollen cock against Harry’s hip. Harry took mercy on him as he enveloped Draco’s cock with his slick hand. The warm and familiar wetness broke Draco from his fog, and he began to thrust furiously. He pressed his face against Harry’s shoulder as he circled his arm around Harry’s neck.

His grunts became shorter as he felt his body tighten, bordering ecstasy. With a final rub of his engorged head, he groaned as white spurts shot from his cock. Catching some of the slick, he unfastened Harry’s trousers quickly to take Harry’s member. Huffing in amusement when Harry stumbled, Draco stepped closer and continued his punishing pace. In moments, Harry came with a broken sob.

They leaned against one another as they caught their breaths.

Harry finally pushed away sheepishly. “So that happened," he said with the typical embarrassment of a Gryffindor after leaping into a situation.

"Yes, you came onto my innocent self."

Harry laughed, looking pointedly at Draco's hand. "I really did, didn't I?" He Scourgified them wandlessly.

"Onto, not on," Draco chastised, tutting when he noticed the come that had gotten onto Harry's coat. Reaching for Harry's wand, he cleaned the wool with a careful spell. Petting the surface lightly, he slid the wand back into the inside of the coat. 

"Handy spell. I'll have to learn that one one day."

"Expecting to come all over your coat more often?" Draco asked as he banished his soiled pants to the hamper. 

"Just in general. It doesn't have to be me doing the coming," he wriggled his brows in suggestion.

"Well, you'll have me around to maintain your coat anyway," Draco replied, immediately wincing at his carelessness at implying that they had to be sexually exclusive to one another. They had only agreed to be discrete, not exclusive, and he was already flouting the month-old agreement. His face burned as he desperately busied himself with looking for a pair of briefs to wear to preserve whatever was left of his dignity.

"Don't," Harry said when Draco pulled out a fresh pair of pants. He looked at Harry with furrowed brows. "It's easier access without pants," Harry explained.

"You're a wizard, Harry."

The grin he received was disproportionate to the statement he made. Draco's frown deepened into a scowl at not being taken seriously.

"It's sexier if you don't. I'll spend the whole night thinking about how deviant you are. Deviant and sexy! Emphasis on the sexy!" Harry quickly backtracked when Draco's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"You're the deviant one! Wanting to have thoughts about my cock while having dinner with Ron and Hermione."

"So if I'm the deviant one, you're the sexy one?"

Draco shook his head with fond exasperation. "Obviously I'll be the sexy one," he yelped, nearly falling over putting on his trousers when Harry groped his arse. "Potter, hands off the arse. I'm the top in bed."

Harry only shrugged. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a fine arse when I see one."

"You're the fine arse. Wait till I fuck you stupid," Draco grumbled under his breath as he looked through his closet for a jumper.

"Wear this." Harry pressed himself flush against Draco as he reached for a cream-coloured jumper.

"No. It'll make me look washed out."

"No, it's fine. Party at the bottom, softy on the top. I'll cuddle you after we fuck."

"I'm a party even on top," Draco said just to be contrary as he took the knitted jumper with a sigh. As usual, he was giving in to everything that Harry requested. The entry in his journal would be a highlight of his failures. Pulling it on, he ripped a hand through his hair to ensure that it wasn't ruffled. He straightened his collar and tugged at his shirt sleeves for it to peek out just so. Overall, it didn't look too bad. The thickness of the material made him look a bit too cosy, but it was reasonable for the cuddles he would get in exchange.

"I'm getting better at coordination, aren't I?" Harry said, his chest puffed out with pride.

The combination of Harry's right dimple and earnest hunger for praise made Draco nervous. He wanted to push Harry against the wall and to devour the smile so that it would only be his alone. He wanted to bruise his lips, to cage that innocence for himself. He shrugged brusquely before heading to his collection of colognes.

"So, my place or yours tonight?"

For the first time, the answer didn't come easily to Draco. Unlike his usual modus operandi, he didn't want to roll off Harry, pick up his clothes, and return to an empty bed. But staying over was a commitment, and he didn't want to be the one who requested. At the same time, he didn't want to be the one left behind, much less by Harry. He pretended to consider as he fiddled with his bottles of cologne. 

"Since we're already here, we could pack a set of clothes and your WEEPing robes? Or I could swing back before meeting you here if you would rather your house."

"Yours would be more sensible," Draco said with forced casualness, grateful for Harry's effusiveness. He didn't know how Pansy and Theo managed to keep their relationship alive with all the second guessing to save face.

"I'm nothing but sensible." Harry grinned at him. "Continue choosing between your citrus woody scent and your citrus woody scent. I'll pick your clothes."

Draco felt his face heat at the casual jab, desperately wishing for the floor to swallow him whole. He only wore variations of his preferred woody scent, and the one with citrus notes was his choice for respectable gatherings—something that Harry had obviously noticed. He so often belittled Harry's eye for details to disastrous outcomes. He bit his lips sharply while Harry made a show of looking through every cupboard.

"You forgot my pyjamas," he pointed out quietly, still embarrassed at being so easily read.

"You don't need pyjamas when you have me," Harry said cheekily as he opened his arms wide.

Draco huffed in amusement. He reached to help take the clothes over, raising a brow questioningly when Harry moved it out of his reach.

"Take your poncy products—new bottles for when you stay over."

"That's presumptuous of you," Draco said as he placed his hands at his waist. "I'm too busy to be sleeping over all the time."

"I'll come over then. You can brew while I work on my reports."

Draco's eyes bulged at the second revelation of the night. Harry was revealing everything tonight, and Draco was wrong-footed. He had never mentioned his side project to Harry.

Harry's smile was mischievous. He tucked his hands into his front pockets as he rocked on the balls of his feet. His satisfaction at leaving Draco speechless was obvious. "Well, you value sleep too much to stay up late, but when you do, you're usually tired and frustrated, which is a strange combination. Then I eavesdropped on your conversation with Theo—" He shrugged.

"It's for knowledge," Draco said quickly.

Harry slanted his eyes at him. "Of course, that's why you've spent two years creating three potions."

Draco closed his eyes as he touched his forehead weakly. "This is like sixth year all over again," he mumbled to himself disbelievingly. Harry seemed to have taken it upon himself to sleuth through his private activities.

"Look, you're not as subtle as you think you are. Besides, now that you know that I know, I can help you if you need anything."

Draco opened his mouth to retort before realising that Harry was right. Instead of cruising at Muggle clubs to test the efficacy of his potions, he now had the offer of a willing participant. He grinned at Harry, relishing at his nervousness.

"What do your potions do?" he demanded.

"Don't you already know, Potter?"

"Bloody hell. This really is just like sixth year!" Harry exclaimed as he threw his hands up.

"Well, you're the one who started it."

"Fine. I'll know about it soon anyway." He waved for Draco to continue packing. "Save some of that sixth year sentiments for later, will you? Hate sex would be fun."

Draco rolled his eyes as he busied himself with rounding up his numerous toiletries. He wondered if Harry would give him a bit of cupboard space, too.

* * *

Heightyhill's Household Helpers—Draco marvelled darkly at the new stationery on his desk. He turned it around, stuck his finger clumsily into the flap, immediately dropping it when a blue spell shot towards his eyes, shattering and bouncing off the charmed lens on his dragonhide mask. Swearing loudly, he rounded his desk to inspect the singe in his wallpaper.

This was bloody ridiculous. He pushed everything aside as he returned to his seat behind the table. Taking the dragonhide gloves off, he started to diagnose the damage on his mask. He was just lucky that his Malfoyan paranoia had been forged by the constant presence of Voldemort. He would otherwise have died six times opening these bloody letters.

The left lens was unrecoverable. He would have to send an order to Paris for another customised crystal and wait for its delivery before he could open any more exuberant fanmail. His life would be so boring in the meantime. Draco leaned backwards before storing the packages away.

There was nothing to do when Harry wasn't around. He would turn in early tonight. He had to reorganize the Auror archives tomorrow, and it would take his sanity and then some to complete.

* * *

**Excerpt from Draco Malfoy's notebook, _‘Shops to Avoid’_**

6\. Henry Degalus, Wandrous Fine Tailorings, 6 October 2002, Concentrated Angel's Trumpet Draught dusted on letter. 22 October 2002, Spray of Angel Trumpet Draught when envelope is opened.

9\. Jacqueline Marsh, Marsh Tyres and Auto Fittings, 7 October 2002, Letter detailing how my degeneracy and unnatural tendencies are affecting Harry.

41\. Constance Cowherd, Magical Menagerie, 28 October 2002, Delayed suffocation spell. Had to summon Worry.


	3. Chapter 3

"So I managed to get a reservation for the new French restaurant at Diagon."

Draco glanced at him while stirring his latest attempt at his Beautification potion. He continued to count as he waited for it to turn blue. "When is your reservation?"

"This Friday" Harry said, chin propped on his hand.

"Oh," Draco said, frowning as he dropped the white petals into the potion.

"You don't sound excited," Harry said in confusion. 

Draco bit his lower lip as he turned the fire down to a simmer. "Can we go somewhere else instead? We still haven't been to the Chinese restaurant that Andromeda recommended."

"Are you in trouble?" Harry moved sharply in his seat, the sudden movement of his hand tearing the flimsy page of his Muggle motorcycling hobby magazine.

Draco looked at Harry in shock and disbelief, taken aback by Harry's accuracy—the letters would now come whenever he was photographed in Wizarding public, and four times a week of hate messages was getting too much for him. He quickly schooled his features to one of skepticism. "What trouble can I get into?"

"I don't know." Harry was unconvinced as he watched him closely in scrutiny. "You were excited about the restaurant when Theo talked about it last week. Is Blaise going to be there this Friday? Narcissa? No?" He looked upwards as he considered the matter. "Robards?"

Draco shook his head as he rolled his eyes.

"Who else might you want to avoid on a date night," he mumbled as he rubbed his chin. "—been working with the Aurors... shouldn't have any new enemies..."

"What do you mean by new enemies?" Draco faked offence in an attempt to distract Harry. "I don't make enemies when I work."

"WEEP can get quite offensive. Changing of old ways and stuff." Harry waved him away as he continued to consider the matter at hand. "What have you done now? I'm not the issue because you didn't say no to the date. Just the location, so the location is the problem. Who is going to be there? Who do you want to avoid? Who can get themselves on the reservations list?"

"Merlin, you're paranoid. It's nothing, honestly. I just had French cuisine this week, and I didn't want a repeat."

"No, you didn't. I haven't had French food at all." Harry's brows were twisted as he tried to remember the meals he had had with Draco.

"You didn't visit the Manor on Tuesday night, did you?"

Harry shrugged. "There's a whole menu of French food to choose from. Happy can't have cooked a whole cookbook on the single day that I wasn't around."

"Salazar! Fancy yourself Head Auror, don't you?"

"Nope. My intuition can tell that something's off, and I won't rest until I figure it out." Harry watched him add the Lady's Mantle into the cauldron with narrowed eyes.

Draco lamented the amount of time he now spent with Gryffindors. His playacting was no longer what it used to be. "I'll make you a proper suspicions form to frame your thought process one day." Draco said while keeping an eye on his cauldron.

"I'd like a folder for my forms. Name it _'2002 - 2010: Suspicions about Draco Malfoy, by Harry Potter'_ ," he said with thick sarcasm in reference to the administrative changes and naming formats Draco had enacted in the department. "The folder should be twinned because I'll need to follow up with the outcomes of my suspicions. It should also be tied to our magical signatures and locked with a password for privacy."

Draco exhaled in amusement. "Wouldn't it be a shame if you didn't come up top in the revised Documentation, Forms, and Filing course?"

"Is that a challenge?" Harry squared his jaw.

"If you want it to be," Draco replied. Course results were only pass or fail, but as the trainer for the first run, he would know the results of everyone.

"What do I get if I win?"

Draco pretended to consider, "eternal glory and a peck on the cheek."

"I already have both," Harry said as he waved the suggestion away. "You'll have to tell me why you don't want to go to l'Intimiste." 

"You'll never let it rest, would you?" Draco said as he added the powdered ginger root carefully. "You'll regret choosing something so silly if you do win. Do you want to change your wager?"

"Never. I trust my intuition."

"So be it, then. You'll have to come up top amongst all the Aurors. You're not allowed to tamper the test papers of others, encourage them to throw the paper, or try to attain a copy of the paper before the test," he said as he turned the heat on high.

"Merlin, I'm a proper Gryffindor, alright? I would never!"

"Potter, I could hear the Jarvey bouncing in your head."

Harry complained under his breath as he shifted in his stool. "It'll still count even if there's a tie for the highest score."

"Of course that's given."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Harry huffed. "You'd do anything to make sure that I don't win."

Draco rolled his eyes. "This would require a second suspicions form, just so you know."

"That won't stop me. I am the best at Documentation, Forms, and Filing." Harry thumbed his nose proudly. "So, do we agree on the terms of the bet?"

"Of course. As long as you don't cheat in any way or form."

"Funny, I was going to ask the same of you."

Draco smiled thinly as he waved his wand in a fanciful upwards spiral at his potion.

Harry climbed off his high stool and walked over to peer at it. "It looks darker than usual."

Draco nodded, pushing his damp fringe backwards as he dabbed the beads of sweat at his hairline. "I finally got some pink pearls," he explained, decanting a serving to a vial. The last few trials with Harry had been short of disappointments, and his looks had not been enhanced at all.

Harry watched him intently as he lifted the vial in a toast. Swallowing the potion, they looked at each other. Draco flinched when Harry suddenly gasped. 

"Did it work? Did it?" he demanded as he grabbed Harry excitedly by the arms.

"No. I was just pulling your leg."

Draco shook the other man in frustration. "I'll kill you one day and it'll be completely justified."

Harry only laughed. He leaned in to press a kiss on Draco's lips. When pulled back, his dimple was deep in his cheek as he beamed at him.

"Do I look prettier already? More captivating? The effects are supposed to be instantaneous," Draco said after he had collected his thoughts. He pushed Harry further from him.

"Not any more so," Harry said carefully. His eyes were thick with guilt and sympathy.

Draco pressed his palm to his temple as he breathed in deeply in disappointment. He was so sure that it would work this time. The Lady's Mantle had set off a stronger reaction with the pink pearl dust. His jaw worked as he tried to move past his failure.

Squaring his shoulders, he collected himself, laughing slightly when he noticed that Harry was halfway back to his seat, as if trying to give him space. “I’ll make some notes, then we can leave. I’m starting to think that this might be a fool’s endeavour.” He shook his head wryly.

“No, it’s not. It’ll be a lot more stable and impartial. Beautification spells are targeted and isolated, and the effect depends on the caster’s perception of their features. Whereas your Potion acts on the beholder and makes the drinker more beautiful in their eyes. It’s a lot more reliable.”

Draco huffed in amusement as he poured the failed potion into a flask for storage. Stowing it away in his stasis chamber, he was smiling regardless of the disappointment at Harry's earnestness. “Shall we go? I’ll reward you for that comment.” Having Harry around made it hard for him to wallow in his misery. Even though the research process was lonely and frustrating—he would have entertainment during his long hours of brewing, and Harry always encouraged him to push his boundaries.

Harry hopped off the stool with a grin. Draco pulled him out of the laboratory.

* * *

Draco moved his quill back and forth under his chin, _'Potions for Love, Lust and Attraction'_ suspended before him. Focused on the contents, he did not seem to notice the book releasing heart-shaped bubbles from the top of its spine. Detaching after it reached a certain size, the bubbles vanished quietly after drifting too far.

Draco frowned as he flipped the page. Based on the catalysing factor of the Lady's Mantle, the book was supporting the fact that his latest potion should have worked.

Exhaling impatiently, Draco pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. He looked at the end of the library blankly as he considered his next steps. There was no clear substitute, unless it was something else in the ingredients list, but nothing else was pinging. He had broken the potion down so many times, obsessed over the reaction in each step. Draco was angry and frazzled. Nothing was making sense, and this potion was taking too long. He had spent two years building his portfolio to be an Unspeakable, and if he never got his third potion down—he swallowed as his stomach clenched. He got to his feet, the heavy chair sliding against the polished wooden floor.

He opened the door that led to his rooms. He would make himself a spot of tea—that always helped to clear his mind. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself before reaching for the tea set that he had stowed away in his bookshelf. As he set it up carefully, he felt his mind calm. When he was younger, he used to relish the rare times Mother performed the tea ceremony during good weather days in the garden.

Draco poured hot water onto the teapot from the enchanted kettle before lifting the now-warm lid. He filled the teapot with water. His hands were steady as he then drained the pot evenly onto the filter and the pitcher.

Even though he was scarcely able to comprehend the history of Chinese tea making and drinking then, his mother’s solemn and exact gestures were enough to make him sit down instead of running off to play. He would pepper her with endless questions, then commentary, and finally, when he was older, the grave contemplation that the ritual deserved. He had always thought of it as his first introduction to Potions making, an exact art focused on the intent, and heart of the brewer.

Lifting the filter, Draco poured the water into the teacups. His mind cleared as he lost himself to the ritual.

When he finally poured the second batch of tea into the cups he had set out, it suddenly struck him that it could be his tester’s fault. Setting his teapot down carefully, Draco rushed towards his dressing room for a change of clothes. He tried to manage his expectations, but it was impossible—he had only started using pearl powder as a catalyst a month ago when his arrangement with Harry had started, and if it wasn’t his catalyst, then it was obviously his tester. Harry was the anomalous case every magical theorist speculated about in their essay conclusion—he had bloody lived through two AKs through sheer pig-headedness, and instead of being wary, Draco had so merrily taken up the offer for him to be his tester.

Draco scarcely looked at his reflection, not bothering with his hair or cologne. With the help of his potion, he would look the best that he would ever manage in the eyes of his beholder anyway. Downing the latest potion confidently, Draco flooed to the foyer before apparating to the gates, headed for his favourite club from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

* * *

**  
Magical Borders Restriction Authority**

**Application for Portkeys Out of the European Union**

**Name of Applicant:** Andromeda Black

**Identity Number:** D510068E

**Birthdate:** 13 April 1951

**Name of Travel Partner:** Narcissa Black

**Identity Number:** D550131A

**Birthdate:** 13 August 1955

* * *

**Type of portkey:** Return

**Leaving to:** Portkey Arrivals, Hangzhou, China

**Purpose of visit:** Leisure

* * *

**Date and Time of departure (According to the UK):** 18 December 2002, 05:00

**Date and Time of return (According to DESTINATION):** 27 December 2002, 16:00

* * *

**Tap here when you are ready to submit your application. Please check thoroughly before submission. Any edits will cause delays in application. **

**Please note that your application will require at least 10 working days to process.**

**Tap here to check your application status.**


	4. Chapter 4

"So it's going to be just us this Christmas," Draco mentioned as he applied his anti-ageing cream on the corner of his eyes. They had just returned from a dinner party at Theo's when the realisation had hit.

"Yeah. We're staying together, right?" Harry said as he toweled his hair, making it messier than it already was. Mother and Andromeda were continuing their tour of China, Arthur and Molly were visiting Charlie, Hermione and Ron were visiting Japan, and Pansy and Theo were going to France while Blaise and Ginny were attending his mother's seventh wedding in Cairo.

"Of course," Draco agreed. He shook his head exasperatedly as he turned away from the mirror. Pushing the towel away, he dried Harry's hair with a gentle spell before reaching for the bottle of Sleakeazy's. Harry hummed contentedly when Draco tugged lightly on his hair while working the product in.

"You should learn to care for your hair," Draco said quietly, following Harry's overgrown fringe and tucking it behind his ear. His hand slid to the nape of Harry's neck.

A smile spread across Harry's face slowly. "Why should I when I have you?"

Draco felt his heart react involuntarily to Harry's teasing. He made a show of rolling his eyes to conceal his amused pleasure. "You're cute," he said coolly before walking out of the toilet.

"Cute enough to help me dry my hair forever?" 

Draco pretended to appraise Harry, sweeping his eyes over Harry's face, then his form, muscled from the weekly Auror trainings. "Maybe," he said noncommittally. It was criminal that Harry's skin was flawless even with his dismal skincare regimen and extended exposure under the sun. "I'll apply for a refund if you don't age well."

"You wouldn't have to worry about that," Harry said as he climbed into the bed. "Hermione told me that brown and black don't crack. As in, we don't age that quickly, you know? Whereas—" He looked at Draco skeptically.

Draco lunged for Harry. "You take that back!" he said with exaggerated offence as he shook Harry by the shoulders. He yelped when Harry managed to overturn him in a swift move. "Malfoys age well. Have you seen Mother?" He tried to pull his hand out of Harry's grasp to tickle him in the abdomen.

"Your mother's a Black," Harry wheezed between laughs, bursting into a sharp giggle when Draco managed to pull his hand free.

Draco quickly pinned him down. "Take it back," he demanded.

"Draco, you're not an it," Harry said breathlessly, his eyes dancing with mirth. He exclaimed when Draco jabbed him sharply in the abdomen.

"Take it back!" Draco insisted, half his mind already elsewhere at the feeling of Harry's muscles under his hand.

"I'll allow you to dry my hair forever," Harry said, breaking off into a moan when Draco suddenly bent to mouth at his neck, a hand on his cock.

* * *

Harry's brows shot up in greeting as Draco stepped out of the Floo.

"Where's Teddy?" Draco asked when he finally pulled away from the kiss. His mood already felt better with Harry's arm around him.

"Baking cookies with Worry because 'Cousin Draco likes cookies'," Harry repeated in Teddy's childish, excited tone. "Are you okay? Didn't manage to get Morten?"

Draco sighed as he pulled Harry towards the kitchens. "It's like he's hiding or something. I was walking up and down the corridors the whole afternoon, but he didn't appear." Morten was the only Unspeakable people knew, and he only revealed himself selectively along the corridor of the Department of Mysteries. Draco had managed to submit his application at the start of December, and there had been no indication of their interest after weeks of waiting.

"Maybe they're on holiday," Harry said as Teddy's giggles became louder.

Draco looked at him in disapproval. "They're Unspeakables. They don't go on holidays!"

"Well—" Harry looked at him with skepticism. He pointed at Draco, then to himself with a pointed tilt of his head.

"Well, it's different! I'll always have time for you, but it's not the same for them. They're _Unspeakables_ ," he said.

"It can't be too different if they're hiding in plain sight. They've got to be normal or whatever normal is."

"Draco!" Teddy exclaimed when he noticed Draco at the doorway. Dropping the half-eaten cookie in his hand, he ran towards Draco in excitement, his hair a sandy brown with dark brown spots the colour of chocolate chips.

"That's a lot of cookies on your face," Draco laughed as he picked the boy up.

"Just only one. I didn't have a lot," Teddy said seriously as he wiped his hand on Draco's lapel. Worry made a noise at the statement, ears flopping as he shook his head at them violently.

"There's dough here, too." Draco pointed to the corner of Teddy's mouth, laughing when the boy's hand immediately flew to his face to remove the evidence. "It's still there."

"Urgh," Teddy groaned as he pressed his face into Draco's robes to clean his face.

"Teddy, that's atrocious!" he complained as he pushed the boy away to inspect the damage.

Harry gasped when he saw the pale streaks on the fabric. "Did Draco eat the dough? Did we catch him?"

"Yes! Draco ate many many dough," Teddy giggled as he waved his hands for emphasis.

"A lot of dough, not many. You can't count dough," Draco corrected, while Harry said, "And you only had one cookie?"

Teddy nodded solemnly. "Just one tiny cookie," he said as he squirmed in Draco's arms, looking to be released. Worry raised his hands in an 'X' to emphasise that it was untrue.

"I'm glad that you only had _one_ tiny cookie, because Happy is cooking spaghetti for dinner. It would have been terrible if you were too full to have spaghetti, wouldn't it?" Draco said as he set him down.

Teddy froze at the reminder. "We're having pasketti," he said to himself as he smacked himself on the forehead.

"Yes, I be told young Teddy again and _again_ that we be having spaghetti," Worry said grimly as he transferred the baked cookies into a plate.

"Didn't you listen to Worry?"

Teddy twisted his left foot back and forth as he looked at the floor. "The cookies were calling me," he said quietly. "I don't want pasketti today."

"Then what will Harry and I eat for dinner?"

Teddy hummed before pushing the plate on the counter towards them. "Cookies?" He looked at them guilelessly.

"No, I'll still prefer spaghetti. Cookies are a snack, not dinner."

Harry put an arm around Draco's waist. "There's still a bit of time between now and dinner. Maybe if you can play it off you'll have a bit of space for some pasketti."

Teddy slumped, his little shoulders drooping forward. "Can we have pasketti tomorrow?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Harry spoke over him, "No, we can't keep eating the same thing every day; it's not healthy. Happy also has plans to cook other things tomorrow. Maybe we can have pasketti next week?"

Teddy nodded quickly as he perked right up in a little jump. "We can have a lot a lot and many many pasketti," he said as he waved his hands wildly. "Can we have pasketti for Christmas too?"

"Maybe if you're good," Draco said.

"I'm always good!" Teddy said exuberantly before he charged out of the kitchen while making swooshing noises.

"Didn't you tell him not to have so many cookies?" Draco crossed his arms as he turned to look at Harry with a frown.

"I did! I reminded him! I said maybe we could have some of your cookies after pasketti."

Draco shook his head in disapproval. "Teddy takes after you," he said as he walked out of the kitchen.

"What does that mean!" Harry sputtered as he rushed to follow Draco. "I'm not the one who likes cookies, Draco!"

Dinner was a solemn affair, though Teddy was entirely unbothered while his cousin glared at his godfather. It was only the next day that Draco would forgive Harry for teaching Teddy how to expend his energy through his Metamorphmagus abilities.

It was the first argument in their relationship.

* * *

Draco sat on the floor, laughing as he watched Harry try to get Teddy to space the Christmas ornaments out.

"No, they have to be together!" Teddy insisted, stomping his foot as he pushed Harry's hand away from the rainbow Teddy blob on the tree. Draco had purchased the Wheezes' customisable figurines ornament set, and Teddy had spent the Saturday morning drawing pictures of everyone that he could think of. After Draco had charmed the drawings into tiny ornaments, Harry had discretely carved the individual names of the Weasleys on the otherwise indistinguishable red haired figurines.

"I think that it looks great," he said as he winked at an incredulous Harry.

"Teddy, Draco's house is really big. We can spread out just a little. Maybe I can go here?" He pointed to the branch by the side.

"No, you cannot," Teddy said curtly. Stepping backwards to inspect the tree with a solemn nod, he picked up a length of tinsel on the floor.

Draco shrugged when Harry looked at him in exasperation. Teddy had lined Draco, Harry, and himself one after another on the same branch, and only Teddy could be seen from the front. "As long as I'm the one at the back," he told Harry lowly. Harry frowned at him in confusion, before pointing the middle finger at him when he understood.

"Draco, I want it yellow," Teddy said as he suddenly thrust the silver tinsel into his face.

Draco felt his eye twitch. It was happening too soon, and he has not prepared for this! "Yellow like my hair, or yellow like—" he looked around to find something that was Hufflepuff yellow in the room but to no avail. It just wasn't done—it simply wasn't done in his family. "Like your marker?" Draco grasped in his hand clumsily, shooting Harry a look of warning when he fell over in laughter.

"A little bit darker, please," Teddy said as he coloured his own hair for visual reference.

Draco's hand trembled as he charmed the tinsel to the exact shade of Hufflepuff yellow on Teddy's head. Oh, his sweet cherub, he pulled Teddy into a tight hug of pride and simultaneous disappointment. "You're a big boy, Teddy—" he said tightly as he squeezed Teddy emotionally, ignoring his squirms and protests— "and I love you so much, all the time."

"Harry, help," Teddy complained as he hit Draco with his Hufflepuff tinsel.

"Oh. Harry loves you so much too," he said as he crawled over and wrapped them both in his muscly arms.

Teddy giggled when the both of them peppered kisses on the sides of his face. "Okay, no more. I need to decorate my tree," he said almost immediately as he pushed Draco's face away.

Draco wiped his tears discretely as Teddy tried his best to loop the tinsel around the tree. Harry reached over to squeeze his left hand and held it in his.

"Makes you think about having more, doesn't it?"

Draco smiled weakly. "Don't think that I could send them off to Hogwarts, honestly."

"We'll send them to Beauxbatons. At least they'd have proper Latin courses."

Draco hummed noncommittally. It wasn't a bad idea, per se; he had always found Hogwarts' education to be a bit lacking—he paused when he realised that he was thinking about his imaginary children with Harry. He flinched as he pulled his hand away.

"Just a little bit higher, Teds." Draco got onto his feet as he adamantly ignored Harry's confused stare.

Under Teddy's authoritarian artistic direction that allowed no feedback, the Christmas tree was one of the ugliest in Magical England. Draco and Harry both were however, incredibly proud of their ward.

* * *

Draco looked away from his book when the bed dipped. "Finished with your letter?"

"Yeah, sent the whole batch off to Baringstone. Don't know how they think of using their company's stationery to send me mails. It's proper crazy," Harry said as he pulled the covers over himself.

Draco shifted to lie on Harry's shoulder mutely at the reminder of his problems. He didn't know that Harry's letter had been to their lawyer. Between dinner parties with their friends who would be travelling during the holidays, preparing for Christmas, and going over plans to entertain Teddy; he had not been catching up with his adoring public. The hate mails had been piling up regardless of the festive season, and it had been months since he had taken his own advice to serve cease and desist letters. Presently, the thought of reading any of the vile mails made him sick. They were vicious and cruel, but it would be helpful when Harry moved back after Teddy left. He was getting too comfortable with their arrangement, and the letters would remind him of his status.

So often Draco would forget himself. He would buy shampoos for Harry for both their houses, kiss Harry whenever they saw each other outside work, and his body would mold against Harry's, like Teddy's Muggle magnets coming together.

"They probably figured that the proper letterheads would bypass the wards," Draco said as he laced his fingers between Harry's, intent on cataloguing the feeling of Harry around him—the muscled torso against his back, the warm arm around him. Memories of these few months would help him through whenever Harry called their arrangement off. He could not imagine experiencing such casual intimacy with anybody else.

"Motivated by spite and jealousy," Harry commented as he nuzzled against Draco's neck. Draco tensed when Harry suddenly paused. "They've sent you letters, haven't they? Don't read any of those rubbish. Those people are bloody mental." Harry turned him around to look straight at him. "If they do anything funny, forward it to the Aurors. I had a letter from Magical Menagerie that tried to bite my face off. It didn't have a magical trace, but I'll be watching them closely. Don't get yourself injured, okay?"

Draco nodded with forced amusement as Harry scanned his face for tells. Whatever he saw seemed to appease him as he pulled Draco into a tight embrace. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry. He would really need all the letters he could get when Harry left.

* * *

Draco was in good spirits. He had just sent out the results of the final session of Documentation, Forms, and Filing, and Harry had scored full marks on the final paper–ten marks higher than the second highest scorer. Curiosity had been Harry's greatest motivator—he had sat right in front of the class, listened raptly, memorised the meagre class notes, and set up his own _‘2002 - 2010: Suspicions about Draco Malfoy, by Harry Potter’_ folder for practical application. In response, Draco had started to send out the hate mails to Baringstone in preparation of the last class. He was prepared to come clean about his perverse indulgence of the letters.

Grabbing his cloak for lunch, he finally noticed the missive on his desk. It was plain and unassuming, but Draco felt his heart race as he looked at it. No interdepartmental notes had arrived at his table, and for a letter to simply materialise? Looking around the room, he reached for the letter carefully. It unfolded at his touch.

The letter was short. He read it twice over before focusing on the reason of their rejection. What did "lacking in its conclusion" mean? Which essay lacked in its conclusion? Had his application not been strong enough? He had submitted his year's worth of Thought evaluation, and the three newly created Potions where he had worked to influence the mental process of its drinker, or of the people around them. He had scored through libraries of research on Brain, Thought and Love, weaved in Muggle philosophy and scientific research for a holistic review. How could it not be enough?

Falling to his chair, he felt his eyes sting. He glared desperately at the letter as he tried to control himself. It was hopeless. Conjuring a quick Patronus, he sent it off to Harry, requesting for his company if possible. He needed to be held; he needed to talk to someone. The letter offered no platitudes on guidance or reapplication. It taunted him mercilessly when his pride needed to be coddled for a few moments more.

"I'm with Ron at the Leaky for lunch. Are you okay? Please come by."

Draco swiped the letter off the table and tucked it into his robes before the Patronus even disappeared. He rushed through the halls, down the staircase, and across the Atrium. Throwing the Floo powder into the fireplace, he disappeared in a whirl.

Draco stumbled as he landed at the Leaky Cauldron. Scanning the place, he quickly spotted Harry and Ron at a corner, Harry listening distractedly, eyes flitting about the door of the pub and Ron, who was gesturing wildly.

Draco felt his heart squeeze at the sight of Harry's solid presence. It was ridiculous how quickly Harry became his strength, the indomitable presence that he could hold on to when anything went wrong. He felt himself tear up again, his feet heavy, ashamed of breaking down before Ron. How could he call Harry over for a few moments? Draco was trembling with dejection when the door to Diagon Alley suddenly slammed open. In that instant before he turned around to follow the noise, Harry's eyes met his, his shoulders straightening as he stood up. A dark-haired lady rushed into the pub, her wand held high as she surveyed the interior.

Draco’s eyes widened when he recognised her. Constance Cowherd had stated in her letters that she would kill him if he set foot in Diagon Alley, and a demented smile of glee spread across her face when she noticed him. Draco had scarcely moved when a series of blue spells were sent to his face as she lunged for him. He exhaled weakly in fright as the spell connected with his neck. He was bleeding, it hurt, and the pub was incredibly loud. People were shouting and glasses were shattering, and Draco blinked as he collapsed. His throat gurgled, and he blinked at the dirty rafters on the ceiling. His vision was hazy as Harry suddenly appeared on top of him, his hair messy, his eyes fiery and his brows creased—a marvel, a classic, timeless vision that had given millions, and himself, hope, even in despair.

Draco felt a tear slide down his temple before his vision went black. Finally, an instance where Harry Potter couldn't save him.

* * *

Dear Draco Lucius Malfoy

Thank you for your portfolio submission to the Department of Mysteries. We appreciate your interest and evident effort in research. While illuminating, it was however lacking in its conclusion.

Thus, after reviewing your application, we have decided that we will not offer you an interview. We wish you the best in your future endeavours.

Thank you.

Department of Mysteries

* * *

Draco woke to a feeling of ache throughout his body. Despite the disorientation, the sharp smell of disinfectant spells and scratchy sheets told him where he was. He groaned softly as he moved his legs, jerking when he suddenly remembered the incident that had sent him to St. Mungo’s. His hand flew to his neck.

“Draco?” Harry asked as he sat up from his awkward slump on his mattress. His eyes went wide when he finally registered that Draco was awake, immediately transitioning to wakefulness. “I need to call the Healer,” he fretted in his seat, laughing brokenly when Draco pointed weakly at the buzzer by his hand.

“You look like crap,” he whispered hoarsely as he took in Harry’s greasy hair and the imprint of the sheets on his cheek.

Harry squeezed his hand with obvious overwhelm. Draco frowned at the wetness in Harry’s eyes, and was about to comment further when a Healer bustled into the room.

“Seven days, Mr. Malfoy,” the Healer greeted. “Been a while, but your body is recovering well,” he said as he reviewed the results from his tests.

“What happened?” he asked softly, coughing at the tickle when the Healer helped to moisten his throat with a spell. Draco thanked him.

The Healer glanced at Harry quickly before turning back to look at him. “Cowherd performed a dark slashing curse on your neck. Mr. Potter helped to reverse the darkness and cast some recovery spells before you arrived in St. Mungo’s. Cowherd has been apprehended and will be charged. You might feel a bit of itchiness on your neck while it recovers, but everything should be fine in a while. The scars will fade with more applications of dittany.”

“A dark slashing curse?” He looked at Harry in alarm.

“It was blue, not white,” Harry said.

Draco felt his heart calm as he processed the information. Nobody else knew about Severus’ spell; he would be fine.

“You’ll be on a liquid diet for a few more days until the tenderness fades. Do you have any other questions?”

Draco shook his head as he flexed his empty hand. Harry had pulled away when the Healer had burst in, and Draco felt vulnerable and unmoored.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few hours. You’ll need to get more rest for your body to recover. In the meanwhile, should I… send up the newspaper?” the Healer said speculatively to Harry.

Harry looked strangely bashful as he considered the offer. “Okay. Just that one. And The Quibbler if you have it?”

“What newspaper?” Draco asked when they were finally alone.

“The paper chronicling your stupidity." Harry said curtly as he sat up straighter. "I told you to send them cease and desist letters, and forward the nasty ones to the Aurors, didn’t I? But instead, what did you do?” Harry grabbed the newspaper that zoomed into the room, and hit him in one swift move.

Draco yelped at the attack. “I’m an invalid!”

“Your opinions are invalid, that’s what it is. I told you! I told you to take care of yourself, but you’re out there, opening the mails happily, and that Bubotuber pus!” He pressed his hands against his face, fingers under his spectacles as he trembled. “I should have known,” he said softly as he shook his head.

“Harry,” Draco said as he reached for Harry’s arm.

“No, I should have known,” Harry said loudly as he pulled his hands away. His eyes were teary. “The Bubotuber pus, and you didn’t want to go to Diagon. If I were getting such mails, what would you be getting? Do you know how I felt, knowing that I had called you to the Leaky and caused your injury? That I hadn’t protected you? To see you lying on the floor again in a pool of blood? It could just as well have been my wand. I should have known.” Harry was crying now as he wiped his face with his faded jumper roughly. He pushed away Draco’s hand as he got onto his feet. He walked towards the window, turned away from Draco as he continued to cry.

Draco felt his heart break as he looked at the pained slope of Harry’s strong shoulders, the tears that he had caused, that he could not wipe away. He had no good explanation to provide. He had been careless and selfish, and how could he explain that he needed the letters to hurt himself? His eyes warmed as he also began to tear up quietly. The space between the bed and the window of the tiny hospital room was their uncommunicated feelings towards one another. Too consumed by the guilt of having hurt the other, they were too helpless to console each other.

“I’ve been selfish,” Harry said as he turned around.

Draco shook his head desperately as his tears continued to wet his face. He hated the defeated look on Harry’s face, the pain and sleepless nights that he had caused. “Come, please,” he begged as he sidled over on the bed. There was too much to be said, and the words were not coming out. He was too ashamed, and the both of them were too tired. “Please,” he repeated when he saw the hesitation on Harry’s face.

Harry trudged over. He removed his boots and Scourgified himself before climbing into the bed.

Draco smiled weakly when Harry removed the traces of tears on the both of them. He pulled Harry to lie beside him. Harry burrowed his face into Draco’s chest with a deep exhale.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered as he combed his hand through Harry’s hair. Harry made a broken noise in lieu of a reply.

* * *

Draco awoke again to the sight of Harry staring straight at him, an arm on his waist. "Hi," he said nervously as he clutched at Harry's shirt, afraid that he would leave.

"I'm mad at you," Harry replied, his mouth hard even though his eyes were calm.

"I know. I just—the letters hurt, and I sought them out because they hurt. And for the other nasty ones, I treated them like a case, you know? Why would they get so angry? Why did they get angrier, to what extents would they hurt people? I knew that it was dangerous, but by then—" he trailed off.

"Why would you intentionally hurt yourself?" Harry's brows creased. "I should have done more instead of leaving you to fend the crazies off. I could have spoken up, called Hermione to make laws. You should have told me. I should have known."

Draco pulled Harry closer when he noticed his eyes started to turn glassy with tears. "How would you know? Nobody else's significant other has received as much attention. You inspire a whole new crazy."

"Like you and the spiteful letters. That's a whole new crazy."

"Yes, I—" he stopped himself. He had never imagined that he would ever speak so plainly about his feelings. For the longest time, he had lost himself in his plots to convince Harry that he was worthy of his time and love, only to convey his affection through his hands, his tongue, and his body. He had entered the arrangement with his eyes open as a contractor of professional services, and there was no space for his feelings. His flights of fancy were a disgrace, but it was worse to trigger the termination for convenience clause in their contract. "The letters reminded me that I was unworthy of your time, that our relationship is a contractual agreement. I forget that all this is fake so often, and I would think about seeing you next all the time, about our home and how many children we could have, and I would think about it when I was with you, when you were gone, and the letters helped me to remember that it's not my future nor my present reality." 

The judgement in Harry's face evaporated immediately as it was replaced with what Draco had always feared—horror. He swiped at his stubborn tears furiously as he pushed Harry's hand away.

"Draco, please. It hasn't been about the contract for me for the longest time!"

Draco gaped at him. "But all the weekly dates! And the monthly outings?"

"How else can I get you to be with me? You're the contracts person. I'm the feelings person. It stopped being about the contract for me months ago."

Draco stared at him with déja vu as he recalled Blaise's refrain when he had first mentioned a contract.

"So I guess that you're also a feelings person now? Dating a Gryffindor has addled your mind, too?" Harry teased as he thumbed his tears away.

Draco swatted Harry's hand away even while he ducked to press his face into Harry's shoulder. He wiped his face discreetly into Harry's shirt. "You could have told me earlier," he grumbled as he pinched Harry's in the waist. "We could have skipped everything. Are we properly together now?"

"Of course. We've been together since we signed the contract. We bloody have the same law firm and public relations agency. We even gift Christmas presents together. Even Ron and Hermione don't do that."

"Well, Ron isn't as helpless as you," Draco defended before stealing a kiss that quickly deepened. Afterwards he would lament that he hadn't properly recorded their first kiss as a couple mentally, and Harry would disagree about their timeline, but it was still chaste for the short moment.

"If I had always been living in an alternate reality where I thought that I was manipulating you and was recording my inaccurate observations, obviously my conclusions would be lacking," Draco mumbled to himself afterwards as he watched Harry eat his lunch.

"Yeah, your swotty ' _Progression of Thoughts'_ notebook?" Harry said as he swallowed. "A bloody mess of glaring inaccuracies. So embarrassing." He shook his head disapprovingly.

Draco kicked him on his shin reflexively before shooting him an apologetic look. "How did you even find it? How did you break in?"

"I had to look for your _‘Shops to Avoid’_ book, didn't I? After stripping the glamours, I had you tap your wand on it while unconscious. You didn't expect people to search for it, and it's nothing particularly incriminating, so the security isn't that high." He thumbed his nose proudly like the top student in Documents, Forms, and Filing that he was.

Draco turned to his side as he considered the information that he had gained from properly communicating with Harry. He had previously been so paranoid and biased that he had been blind to the truth that must have been obvious to the Unspeakables. No wonder he had been so thoroughly rejected—Merlin, he slapped his forehead in agony when he finally connected the dots.

"What now?" Harry asked wearily.

"Literally my essay conclusion! The modified Beautification potion didn't work on you because you loved me and you already thought that I was perfect, not because you're an anomalous case! Urgh, it was so obvious! Staring straight at me!" Draco thrashed about in his bed in agony. He had humiliated himself so thoroughly in front of the Unspeakables.

"Well, that's a stretch. I don't think that you're perfect," Harry said skeptically. "You're a proper embarrassment, honestly."

Draco crossed his arms in a sulk. He had to edit his ‘ _The Progression and Coalescence of Thoughts (A Study of Motivations and Decisions)’_ notebook and redo his essay. Harry had to resubmit his application to Morten on his behalf post haste. "Harry, do you have my black notebook with you?"

Harry shook his head as he finished his glass of milk. "I'll fetch it for you? You should get some rest. I'll have a shower before I return. You can dry my hair if you're still awake."

Draco pinked as he returned Harry's smile. "I'll stay up for you," he said sincerely.

"No, it's okay. I'll try to be quick. Do you need anything else? Narcissa will come by tomorrow during visiting hours."

"Just the notebook and my Beautification potions essay? And writing materials, of course. And the anti-frizz serum. Are you sure you can come back? You can't pop in and out of St Mungo's, you know?"

"Of course I can. I'm Harry Potter," Harry said wryly as he leaned in for another kiss. "Read the papers when I'm gone," he said casually with a jaunty wave.

Draco sighed as he leaned backwards. Harry had just left, but he was already missing him. His relationship with Harry was so easy. Ever since they had agreed to be friends years ago, they had always paired off during outings, the conversations between them endless as the number of inside jokes piled up. The transition from friends to more had taken him a bit, but Draco would learn to let his guard down overtime. Unfolding the papers, Draco was excited for the future to come.

"Hermione!" Draco greeted in surprise when he noticed his friend in his room. "I didn't hear you come in."

"That's a nice article," Hermione grinned as she nodded at the spread on his lap. "We helped with his points but it was entirely his idea.

Draco smiled at her gratefully. He had barely skimmed the write-up from Pansy, but knowing the effort from Harry and his friends, it would surely be good. "Did you meet Harry on your way out? I just woke up, and we had a bit of a talk." He said shyly. 

"Yes, I did. I'm glad that you guys are finally together. I thought that I should wait, but you'd probably appreciate it." She extended a hand at Draco, nodding for him to take it. He slipped his hand into hers quizzically.

"Congratulations on passing your interview. Welcome to the Love Division of the Department of Mysteries," she announced, her smile crooked with pride and glee.

Draco gaped at her in shock.


	5. Chapter 5

** MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! **

By Pansy Parkinson

In the wake of Draco Malfoy's incident, I was surprised to be contacted by Harry Potter's public relations team for a private interview with their client.

The Prophet has always treated the media-shy Saviour of the Wizarding World as a spectacle for quick galleons, and to be considered for an interview spoke of the Junior Auror's desperation. As a friend, I was glad to see him. As a reporter, I was ashamed.

Harry Potter was dishevelled when we met, his complexion grey, his eyes dull, and his hair standing from exhaustion and distress. His message was plain, as referenced in the headline of the article. _Yes, Mind Your Own Business, you insufferable busybody._

"I wish that people would respect my autonomy and the decisions I make. I fought so that people would not have to have their lives dictated by someone else. Is it too much to ask the same from the public?"

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley were awarded Orders of Merlin, First Class for their selfless heroism during the second world war. During the Fall of the Ministry, businesses were shuttered and propaganda was rife. People lived in fear that their friends and family would disappear without a trace in the actions of the Ministry or You-know-who. Harry Potter and his friends were on the run for half a year. I asked if it felt like he was being persecuted all over again.

"Yes, it does. We are harassed daily, and every other day there's a letter with malicious intent." That's polite language for delayed suffocation spells and lethal contact poisons.

Hermione Granger, Junior Officer, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has proposed a law to improve privacy for individuals. Individuals and corporations whose actions have inconvenienced others can be fined up to five thousand galleons and/or be sent to Azkaban for three years. Harry Potter welcomed the proposal.

"I love Draco Malfoy, and one day, we will be a family. I will not have my future robbed from me. I will fight everyone who stands between me and my happiness."

With platitudes evidently getting nowhere, I applaud Harry Potter for his honesty. I look forward to a day where our media respects our subjects and serves to educate our readers. In the meantime, until the privacy law is enacted, reread my headline.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish that I could figure out the newspapers skins by [La_Temperanza](https://archiveofourown.org/series/458134).
> 
> I really like office fics suddenly. Wish there were more. :( 
> 
> Do point out any mistakes, I'd be eternally grateful!


End file.
